


The Case Of Ten Deductions

by Krakenthatpiratebooty



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Deductions, Murder, Other, Sherlock Being Sherlock, Sherlock Holmes & John Watson Friendship, The game is on, Ultimate game, miss me, mystery daughter
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-19
Updated: 2018-04-02
Packaged: 2018-12-04 09:10:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 4,860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11552055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Krakenthatpiratebooty/pseuds/Krakenthatpiratebooty
Summary: I do not own Sherlock.Characters, settings, terms/other within the story belong to writers and creators of Sherlock, BBC.“You came here as a client, then? Why?” Sherlock asked.“Murder,” I said.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave thoughts and comments

I paced back and forth.

_Sherlock Holmes._

I stopped and looked towards the door. 221B Baker St.

_Mor-_

My finger hit the buzzer. I heard it echo through the building. I stepped back just as the door opened. A small woman greeted me with a smile.

“Hello, come in, come in, they’re upstairs,” she said. She pointed up the staircase, “Come on.”

Each footstep echoed through the silent building. She cracked the door at the top of the stair and said something inaudible. Then pushed me through the door.

“Hello, have a seat,” Watson said. If you knew Sherlock Holmes, you knew John Watson.

I walked to the chair, and placed my hands on the back. Sherlock watched me closely.

“Would you like a cup of tea?” Watson pointed to the tray. I nodded. He picked up a cup and poured the dark steaming liquid. “Here you are, now how can we help you?”

“Isn’t it obvious, John? Pacing outside the door. Nervous. Silent. She’s a fan. We’ve already given her what she wanted.” Sherlock sat down. “You can leave now.”

“You’re very clever aren’t you.” I tapped my fingers against the chair. “But you’re wrong.”

John chuckled.

“You regretted ringing the doorbell almost immediately, and stepped away from the door. You put effort into dressing today, something you typically don’t do. The dress is uncomfortable, which is why you won’t sit. You said nothing when you entered, probably trying to stifle an obnoxious squeal. Fan girl.” Sherlock leaned back into the chair.

I smiled and brought the cup to my lips.

“I paced outside the door because I was waiting for it to be noon,” I said. “I knew tea would be ready; I had a craving. I put effort into dressing today because I knew you would notice that first, and you would ignore at least ten other deductions. I said nothing when I entered because I was observing.”

“You forgot one, why take a step back after using the buzzer?” Sherlock asked.

“There was a glare on the door,” I said.

John Watson watched Sherlock. Waiting for a reaction.

“You came here as a client, then? Why?” Sherlock asked.

“Murder,” I said.

“Whose murder?” Watson asked.

“Mine,” I said.

“You don’t appear dead,” Sherlock said.

I took another sip from the cup. “Very good.” I looked at the watch on my wrist. “I have about 12 minutes left.”

Sherlock folded his hands, fingertips under his chin. Watson stood.

“Who is the murderer?” Sherlock asked. Never breaking eye contact.

I sat the cup on the chair.

“The game is on, Mr.Holmes. Tell me how you did it.”

My breaths slowed. Throat closing up. I had ten minutes before my breathing would stop. I closed my eyes as I fell to the floor.


	2. Chapter 2

My body fell to the floor. I opened my eyes.

**10 minutes.**

“Oh god.” Watson knelt. He wrapped a hand around my wrist. “Okay, focus on me … look at me.”

Instead I looked to Sherlock. He sat. Hands folded, fingertips under his chin.

“Glare on the door, John,” Sherlock said.

“Will you get up!” Watson said.

Sherlock stood and paced. “I have time.”

**9 minutes.**

Watson tightened his grip. “Her heart rate is accelerating!”

“She never sat down, John.” Sherlock stood on the table.

“Is that really important right now?” John asked.

**8 minutes.**

“Yes, John, it’s the details. ” Sherlock went to the chair and picked up the cup. “Oh this is exciting!”

My eyelids began to get heavy.

Watson patted my face. “Keep them open, come on.”

**7 minutes.**

“Call an ambulance!” Watson shouted.

Sherlock held up the cup. “No.”

I stiffened. My breathing labored.

**6 minutes.**

“Sherlock, phone Lestrade.”

“Anaphylactic shock,” Sherlock said. He threw the cup across the room. It shattered.

“Jesus, Sherlock!” Watson shouted.

**5-4-3 minutes.**

“‘Tell me how you did it,’ she said.” Sherlock clapped his hands. “The cup… She drank it! Brilliant!”

I grasped at my throat, unable to breathe.

“No. No…” Watson lifted my body onto his lap.

**2 minutes.**

“She estimated wrong,” Sherlock said. “From the time she took the first drink, she only had eight minutes,”

“How much time does that leave?” Watson asked.

“1 minute,” Sherlock responded.

**1 minute.**

“Then think, Sherlock!” John shouted.

“Stop talking,” Sherlock said. “How I did it? The cup. The cup was lined with the substance. No, too obvious. It would have been noticeable. Yes! The tea, John. It was in the tea!” Sherlock disappeared from view. Cabinets slammed open and shut.

No longer in control, I could not stop my eyes from closing.

**Times up…**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave thoughts and comments!
> 
> Next chapter will be uploaded next week.


	3. Chapter 3

I jolted forward. My hand clutching onto Sherlock’s arm. He was holding a small syringe.

I fell back into Dr. Watson’s lap. “Good job,” I said.

The door to the small apartment opened. Three policemen walked in.

“You did call the police?” Watson asked.

Sherlock sat down. “Of course I called. A woman just tried to commit suicide in our apartment. Mrs. Hudson would have been traumatized.”

I propped myself up. “You tried to murder me.”

An officer stepped forward and pulled me to my feet. “Don’t worry boys, we’ll get this mess sorted.”

Watson patted the policeman’s shoulder. “Thanks Greg.”

I was led toward the door.  “Mr.Holmes … I owe you,” I said.

Sherlock looked at me. “What did you just say?”

I looked ahead.

Mrs. Hudson was at the bottom of the stairs. “Oh dear, is everything alright!”

“They’re upstairs,” Lestrade said as we passed. He put me in the back of the police vehicle.  “So Sherlock says you have a death wish, little morbid if you ask me.”

I looked out the window.

“Crazed fan, Sherlock says. Then you know who I am," Lestrade said. “I’m all over John’s blog.”

Needing to concentrate, I closed my eyes.

“I hope you learn to speak up by the time we get to the station.”

_Now._

“Unfortunately, Inspector, we will have to reschedule. I have plans.” I leaned forward, “Reichenbach!”

Time slowed. Lestrade looked over his shoulder. The car buckled, the back end lifting up. The vehicle flipped onto its top. Glass shattered.

It took a moment to come to. Lestrade groaned. I reached for the handle and crawled from the car.

“I didn’t think that all the way through.” I struggled to stand.

“Who are you?” Sherlock asked. He extended a hand.

I pulled a piece of glass from my arm. “You understood my message. You’re quick.” I took his hand. “Shouldn’t you check on your acquaintance?”

Sherlock pulled his shoulders back. “He’ll live. It was planned. Timed. You didn’t want to cause lasting damage.” Sherlock looked to the car. “You said a word, a code. It must have caught him off guard. He would have been looking back at you as the car flipped. Keeping him from life threatening injuries caused had he been facing forward. Now I ask again, who are you?”

“Mr. Holmes…”

“We passed formalities when you almost died on my floor.”

“Sherlock … I do like that better,” I said. “Go on, deduce.”

“Glare on the door when you arrived … the sun was coming from the opposite direction. So what caused the glare?” Sherlock looked me over. “You must have a phone, probably concealed somewhere I wouldn’t notice right away. So you took a photo of the door, a flash photo, you were momentarily disorientated and stepped back. A reflex. Why though?” He looked away from me. “You were sending it to someone, someone who would know the address instantly. A warning?”

I smiled. “A revelation.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave thoughts and comments!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave thoughts and comments.
> 
> Chapter 5 will be uploaded next week.

A black vehicle pulled up.

“Mycroft,” Sherlock said.

“You called for an ambulance, I assume. We should probably get going.” I opened the car door, “Scene of the crime and all.”

Mycroft Holmes. The big brother. The smart one of the two. But there’s a difference between knowledge and understanding.

“Sherlock, I see you’ve met a friend of mine. Charming, isn’t she.”

I settled into the seat. “You should really look into better security.”

“Security?” Sherlock asked.

“She exaggerates the situation. She is a ward of sorts. Placed into an institution to groom her exceptional mind,” Mycroft said.

“One I plan not to return to.” I looked out the window. “Need I remind you of the situation from which you just picked me up.”

Mycroft smiled. “We thoroughly inspected this vehicle.”

“Did you check the credentials of the driver?” I asked. “Driver, please take the next left and then pull over.”

“What is the point of this?” Mycroft asked as the car turned. “Why make me aware of your whereabouts?”

The vehicle stopped. “Sherlock and I required transportation. Now get out.”

“You walk a dangerous line,” Mycroft said. “You were safe.”

“I was controlled.” I nodded toward the door. “Off you go.”

The eldest Holmes exchanged a confused look with his brother and stepped out. We started to move.

“You’ve been surprisingly quiet, Sherlock,” I said. “It’s a little disappointing.”

He looked at me. “Most people take joy in my silence.”

“I take joy in few things,” I said.

“Where are we going?” he asked.

 “No, that’s not the question you want to ask. I was told you weren’t boring, Sherlock.”

“Who told you that?”

“I know there is another deduction in there somewhere,” I said. “Impress a girl.”

Sherlock looked to where Mycroft had sat. “My brother is many things, but he is not without his pride. He showed none with you. His words were carefully chosen when speaking with you, thus he cared about the effect they would have. Mycroft does not understand emotions.”

“Almost there,” I said.

“He complied; took an order. Mycroft cares about you.”

The car stopped.

“There’s a difference between having knowledge and understanding, Sherlock. You have both, but you don’t see what is right in front of you. _Who_ is right in front of you. Mycroft has been a paragon of stability throughout my life, but this isn’t about emotions. This is all about the reason behind why he complied. That’s the question. And here’s the answer. He’s afraid of me.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave thoughts and comments.
> 
> Chapter 6 will be uploaded next week.

Sherlock reached for the door handle.

“Hand me your phone,” I said.

“Why?” he asked, retrieving his cellular device from his pocket and holding it out.

“Because of John Watson.” I took it from him, “There is a GPS tracking app attached to your number, he keeps tabs on you, and if not him, I’m sure Mycroft has had the same thought. Better safe than sorry.”

Sherlock stared at me. “How could you know that?”

“I didn’t know for sure … now I do.” I handed the phone back. “Mycroft, Watson —they wish to keep you out of harm’s way, but Sherlock, that’s exactly where we need to be.”

We walked up the stairs in silence. The building condemned. Unfit for the living, which made it the perfect place for the dead.  _Clever._

“Am I to deduce why we are here?” he asked.

“I told you there would be a murder and that it would be at your hands; I lied.” I motioned toward a room on the left. “There is a target on my head, that is true, but you are going to save me. So you can rest easy knowing you get to keep playing the hero.”

Sherlock entered the room. “Back at the flat, then, what was that?”

Walking to the window, I ran my hand along the frame. “Needing to weigh the probability, I wanted to see the great Sherlock Holmes at work.”

“Probability?”

I turned around and took three steps, my back now to the sun that beamed in. “The likelihood that I will survive.”

He stepped closer. “And what did you conclude?”

A smile spread across my face. “I will fall.”

“Tell me how to save you,” he said.

I checked the watch on my wrist “I am afraid, Sherlock Holmes, that I don’t know the answer. I know the situation and the outcome, but I don’t know the bits in between.”

“Then we avoid the situation,” he said.

“Not this time.” Peering over my shoulder, I checked the suns position.  _Soon._

Sherlock looked around the room, searching for a hint. A clue.

“Ask me again,” I said. “Ask who I am.”

He closed his eyes. “Who are you?”

“I am a shadow, a ghost come back to haunt. I am an opponent and an adversary.” I held my hands out to my side “You won’t find the answer in your mind palace. You must look at me. You must see through who I am.”

His gaze was on me now, focused.

“I wonder what it’s like to be inside your head. To look at a person and know who they are.” I looked directly at him. “I don’t need that from you. I need you to tell me _what_ I am. Turn around.”

He hesitated, but then his back was to me.

“The game is simple. You will ask three questions, which I will answer honestly. You must not turn around; you cannot look at me. When we are finished, you will tell me what I am. If your answer is correct, I live. If not, well…”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave thoughts and comments!  
> Chapter 7 will be uploaded within the next two weeks

 

I looked at the back of Sherlock’s head; curls tousled about. I stood perfectly still. No room for error.  This was a test of reaction time. The gunman would shoot either of us, but could Sherlock predict the reaction and could he himself react in time.

“Go ahead,” I said.

“How long have you been in Mycroft’s care?” he asked.

 “Fourteen years.”

Sherlock was silent. Minutes passed. I kept my breath steady. Legs locked.

“If I turn around what will happen?” he asked.

I closed my eyes.  _Clever._  “What a waste of a question. You can face me if you like. Nothing will happen, but you won’t be playing by the rules. I know you like a good game, Sherlock. If you turn around, the odds go in your favor and you won’t win fairly. And honestly, I’ll be disappointed. One more question.”

The sun was positioned high in the sky. Warm against my back.

“You didn’t design this. It isn’t your game; you are but another player,” Sherlock said.

I felt a pang in my gut. “Ask only a question.”

Sherlock continued, “That’s not to say you aren’t intelligent; you are. But this was made for me to enjoy. You’re simply a pawn. That’s why you came to my flat. You can’t play without me.”

“A question,” I repeated.

“Why now? You were with Mycroft for fourteen years. You are of age then, ready to go out into the world. You’ve been hidden away for years, but that’s not what made you That happened before you found yourself in my brothers care. No, not what made you, but who made you,” he said as he turned to face me.

“Sherlock, please … a question.”

“Someone from your past, someone you are familiar with. You don’t carry a locket or remnant of that time. So this person is not connected with good memories,” he said.

I swallowed hard.

“Yet you are still trying to live up to their expectations. That’s why we are here right now. This was designed for you to impress me. If you lose the game, you lose so much more than just your life.” Sherlock stepped forward.

“What am I?” I asked.

His eyes met mine. “You are alone, desperately trying to find someone to see you for who you are. No, not someone. Me, you need me to see.”

“Sherlock Holmes, what am I?”

“You are a child. That same child at four years old.”

My legs buckled beneath me. Memories crept forward, pulling me to the ground. My reaction.

Sherlock ran forward. He grabbed my arm and pulled me away from the window. His reaction.

The bullet would pierce flesh, the gunman would shoot upon movement. It was only a matter of where. We both reacted, but not in the way either thought.

Excruciating pain. I fell into Sherlock’s arms. Blood spilled onto the floor. He pulled off his scarf and pressed it to my shoulder. I would live.

Sherlock applied pressure to the wound. “I know what you are now. My last question: who are you?”

I closed my eyes. “Moriarty.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave thoughts and comments.
> 
> Chapter 8 will be uploaded within the next two weeks.

 

Blood loss. I struggled to keep my eyes open.

Watson stood from the chair. “What the—?”

“She’s been shot. Right shoulder. The bullet did not exit. She has lost a considerable amount of blood.”

“Sherlock, she should be in hospital,” Watson said.

“Dr.Watson, you need to remove the bullet. She needs you now!”

Watson ran to the kitchen, rummaging through drawers. “Most people keep eating utensils in these,” he said. “Lay her on the floor. Elevate her arm.”

Sherlock laid me down and covered me with his coat.

I grabbed his wrist with my right hand. “Moriarty.” My vision blurred. I could feel myself falling. The first fall of many.

#

I woke in a bedroom. The decorations minimal and plain. Sherlock’s room.

“Take it easy, don’t move.” Watson sat on the bed beside me. “You’re going to be okay. You were shot. Do you remember?”

“Where is Sherlock?” I asked.

Watson placed his hand around my wrist. “Do you remember being shot?”

I nodded. “I am a child. Lost and alone. Can I call you John?”

“Yes,” he said.

“John, I said something to Sherlock.”

The retired army doctor stood. “What did you say?”

I looked to the ceiling. “I said a name.”

A name that made the world fall around itself. A man capable of things that were not possible. With just one name, I risked bringing Sherlock Holmes to his knees.

“What name?” John asked.

“Moriarty,” Sherlock said, standing in the doorway.

John looked to his friend. “He’s dead. We both know this.”

“In a sense, yes. But in another, he is very much alive. He watches us even know, trying to predict our next move so he can best me. Tell John your name,” Sherlock said as he looked at me.

A tear fell from my eyes. “Abigail Moriarty.”

“Abigail, means ‘my father’s delight’, does it not. He must have been charmed with you,” Sherlock said.

I struggled to sit. “What am I now, Sherlock Holmes.”

Sherlock walked through the door and past John. He stopped just in front of me and knelt down to eye level. “You are still that child. Scared, yes, but you are not alone.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave thoughts and comments!
> 
> Chapter 9 will be uploaded within the next 2 weeks!

I lay back against the pillows, staring at the ceiling. Sherlock had given up his room for my comfort. Not that he slept much.

The sound of John Watson and Sherlock conversing woke me. I put my ear to the door.

“Did you call Mycroft?” John asked.

“Why would I?” Sherlock responded.

“Because, Sherlock, he’s your brother, and most families do that sort of thing. But beyond that, he knows more about the girl. Do you think he knows who she is?”

“Of course he does. Do you think it an accident he came upon her or that she is now residing in our home?”

There was a knock on the door. I heard movement.

“Brother mine, it is a pleasure as always. Where is she?” Mycroft Holmes asked.

“John, you called him?” Sherlock asked. After a short pause, he continued. “The girl was shot, she is resting. Why are you here, Mycroft?”

“You are in over your head,” Mycroft answered. “This is one game you don’t want to play. She isn’t him. She isn’t Moriarty.”

“And you care?” Sherlock asked.

I pushed the door open and walked down the hallway.

Mycroft looked my way. “Believe it or not, but I am capable of small bursts of affection.”

Sherlock sat and poured a cup of tea, extending it to me.

“Mycroft,” I said, “If you are here to take me back, I will have to decline. It’s started, and I intend to finish it.”

“What exactly has started?” John asked, adding himself to the conversation.

“An illusion she has created. A final problem.” Mycroft looked at Sherlock. “She has surrounded herself in the fantasy that she must follow in the shadow of her father-”

“I don’t follow his shadow, I wish to be free from it. A luxury you never granted me,” I said.

“What do you mean?” Sherlock asked.

I took a sip, the tea warm on my tongue. “He hasn’t told you then, Moriarty was allowed to visit. Supervised visitations. In which he planted the seed, the loophole in the final problem. I’m the backup plan.”

Sherlock stood and walked to the fireplace mantle, “He wanted to ruin me. Up on that rooftop, he wanted me to fall. He knew there was a chance he would fail … there was always another plan.”

“It won’t be by your hands, but you will hold yourself responsible. Guilt is worse than death. It consumes you. My life has been built around that fall.That rooftop. The final problem. That’s all I’ve ever been, his greatest problem. I am to be your downfall, Sherlock,” I said.

Mycroft stood, “You’ve saved my brother the trouble of a deduction. The secret plan, at no fault of her own.”

“How is he able to do all this?” Watson asked.

Mycroft laughed dryly. “Dr.Watson, do keep up. Sherlock did his best to disband those who followed Moriarty. We of course were aware they still existed. Buried beneath the dirt. Lying dormant until she made contact with Sherlock.”

My phone buzzed in my pocket. And again.

I went to the door and held it open, motioning for Mycroft to take his leave. “As usual, Mycroft has complicated the explanation. It doesn’t matter how Moriarty is capable. Even in death, he is.” I retrieved my cellphone. Two messages. “I simply receive instructions.”


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the delay in posting, hoping to get back into the swing of posting more consistently!  
> Please leave thoughts and comments!
> 
> Chapter 10 coming soon!

We followed the text’s instructions. Vague. To the point. Another address, condemned building. A theme.

Our steps echoed. I opened my phone. “Eight hurdles, one opening,” I said.

“I’ve never liked riddles,” Sherlock said.

My eyes darted around. Hurdles — stairs? I counted the steps: eight. “Upstairs.”

We made our way to the second floor. All the doors were shut, except one. We entered.

There was a loud bang as the door slammed shut behind. Gears clicked into place. The room was bare, pink wallpaper trimmed in ivory covered the walls. It’s familiar. Made to resemble my childhood bedroom.

A table sat in the middle, a sealed envelope on top.

“The contraption on the door--”Sherlock started.

I picked up the letter. “There’s no need, it’s the same equipment I placed on Lestrade’s vehicle. There’s a code word. In order to get out, we need to trigger the explosion.”

Sherlock came to my side as I pulled out the piece of parchment.

“Another riddle,” he asked.

The paper had five blanks. Hangman. This was the code. I closed my eyes, “This is my childhood bedroom, at least a version of it. The phrase is something that connects us both, but in different ways. There is hesitation on the last line drawn. It’s not as established. The person was confused, therefore it can be assumed the phrase can also be shortened.”

Sherlock took the paper, inhaling it’s secrets. “I never assume anything. There is an aroma I noticed upon entering the room, there are traces on the paper. Whoever handled the sealed letter touched something else.”

I knelt down and peered under the table. A recorder was taped there. I hit the button.

“Did you miss me? Did you miss me? Did you miss me?” Moriarty’s voice filled the room, over and over it repeated. My hands began to shake.

Sherlock placed his hand on mine and turned it off. “What does this mean to you?”

I pulled away from him. “Nothing.”

“You’re perspiring, eyes went to the left, recalling a memory. One that is causing you discomfort—”

“I don’t need a deduction, Sherlock Holmes,” I said. “I’m aware of the memories that voice brings to surface, I have lived it. To you, Moriarty was you’re greatest match. To me, he was a shadow in the darkness.”

“Moriarty is brilliant, clever, and to say I did not find amusement in his torments would be a lie. He is that same shadow in my mind, following my thoughts. Waiting for me to finally fall. His words haunt me still,” Sherlock said.

I looked at the consulting detective, reading his face. “That’s where you are wrong, Sherlock, they are not his words. They are mine.”  

My eyes wandered about the room. It was small, windows barred. The explosion would level half the building.

 “Can it be disarmed?” Sherlock asked.

I shook my head. “No. It’s my design. Any attempt to remove or disarm it will still trigger the reaction. You have to play. There is no choice in the matter.”

“It’s very poetic.” Sherlock pushed the button on the recorder. “It’s time we finish this game.”

The room began to morph. The wallpaper, vibrant. I was a child. There was screaming downstairs.

Sounds I didn’t understand. Loud like a firework. I was under the table just as the door opened. I recognized those shoes — black, smooth, and shiny.

Moriarty knelt down. I didn’t see the monster beneath the man, not then. Only someone I desperately wanted to love me.

I crawled from under the table, “Daddy, did you miss me?”

I snapped back as Sherlock grabbed me by the arm. He flipped the table on its side, using his arms to shield my body. The sound exploded all around us. Screams burst from my chest. I was still there, partially trapped in a memory.


	10. Chapter 10

My mom knelt and extended the flower . “You have to be gentle to avoid tearing the petals, they’re delicate.” She rubbed my cheek . “Just like you.”

I giggled and looked out over the yard. There was a pink flower by the back fence. It wouldn’t take long to retrieve it.

It was small . F ragile. I plucked it from the earth. 

My mother was standing now, frozen like a statue.  A man stood behind her, one hand wrapped around her arm, the other hidden.

“Shhh, shhh,” he said.

The pink flower fell from my hand as I stood before them.

My mother reached toward me . “It’s gonna be alright , baby.”

The man jerked her back . “Tell the child who I am.”

Tears streamed down my mother’s cheeks.

“Tell her who I am!”

“Da?” I asked, though I already knew the answer.

He smiled , but not the kind that makes you feel  warm inside .

“Clever," he said . "When the cunning breed with the ordinary, they create the extraordinary." He released his grip. My mother dropped to her knees.

That’s when I saw the gun in his hand.

I jolted forward  into the present-day world . It was only a nightmare.  _ A memory _ .

The room was dark. Nothing but two chairs and a bed. It smelt of cleaning products . S terile. Hospital.

"John, lock that door," Sherlock said stepping from the shadows.

"Why am I here?" I asked.

The lights switched on. Watson leaned against the door, watching. Sherlock stood at the foot of the bed, hands behind his back, observing. 

He sat two disassembled bombs at my feet. "One was pulled from the underside of  Lestrade’s vehicle, the other from the  condemned building. Can you tell me which is which?"

_ Cat and mouse.  _ I smiled . "It would be impossible to tell the difference . I told you the second was modeled from my own design." 

“ Neither is a replica of the other, they are identical. Flawlessly constructed, they do not imitate  each other , they are one in the same. You are not a player in a game . Y ou  _ are  _ the game," he said.

"Again you only see half the image , Sherlock, a portion of the picture. My actions were predictable, and my mistake was clear in the construction of the second  device . However the emotions you dismiss were real. Yes, the game is mine but it is ever changing. There are others joining in, moving their pawns, disrupting the order."

"The recorder, you did not place it there?" Sherlock asked.

"If I had, I would not have allowed you the satisfaction of discovering it's location first. Control, it's all about who is in control."

"Who controls the game now . W ho writes the rules?" he asked.

"It is  neither you nor I . I am afraid that everything is changing . ” I laid  back  against the pillow . "It's raining, it's pouring.”

"Sherlock, call your brother. She should be in institution," John said.

“John , do not move, you are not a player. You have never been one . T o her you are  nonexistent  and therefore safe. However , she speaks the truth . I t may have started with her , but it has become much more . ” Sherlock stepped back . "Now please , John, stay completely still."

"Dr.Watson, it seems you are interfering and someone wishes to remove you from the board . ” I made my way to him, standing in front of him. The small red dot that  had rested on his chest now lay upon my back. "Think what you will of me, I am the only thing currently  standing between you and death.”


End file.
